Now in the sad declension of thy time, When all the world forsakes and lays thee by, I but unveil my love, masked in the prime Of thy transcendent glories. For mine eye, Judge thee not woman but a deity; And till those roses blushing on thy cheek, Those lilies and those violets were seen To wither thus, till all those sweets we seek In ruin lay, I could ne'er begin To court thee without hazard of a sin. Freed from all rival doubts and jealous fears, By time's rude hand, those relics I adore; My flames increase, although thy beauty wears; And in this temp'rate season love thee more, Than in that scorching heat that went before.
Songs from the Autograph Songbook
by William Lawes (1602 - 1645)
1. Now in the sad declension of thy time  [sung text checked 1 time]
Authorship:
- by Anonymous / Unidentified Author
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Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]2. Virgins as I advise forbear  [sung text checked 1 time]
Virgins as I advise forbear, to follow this bright star; You might shine in another sphere, but here eclipsed are. For her, your whole sex I adore, and pity more Those precious hours you spend thus to no end. For who so e'er you meet or see, will all her captives be. But if upon this queen of love as homage you wait If as her guards you were her move to all unto her state. Who she by th'uncontrolled power of her chaste flame Creates a prince, that hour may you the same, And like to hers, may thus your will have power to save or kill.
Authorship:
- by Anonymous / Unidentified Author
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Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]3. Dost see how unregarded now  [sung text checked 1 time]
Dost see how unregarded now that piece of beauty passes? There was a time when I did vow to that alone; but to mark the fate of faces. That red and white works now no more on me, Than if it could not charm, or I not see. And yet the face continues good, and I have yet desires, Am still the self same flesh and blood, as apt to melt and suffer from those fires. Oh, some kind power unriddle where it lies, Whether her face be guilty or my eyes? She every day her man does kill, and I as often die. Neither her power then, nor my will can questioned be, what is they mystery? Sure beauty's empires, like to greater states Have certain periods set, and hidden fates.
Authorship:
- by John Suckling, Sir (1609 - 1642)
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Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]4. If you a wrinkle on the sea have been  [sung text not yet checked]
If you a wrinkle on the sea have been, Ambitious, rise till it a wave hath been, And marked that wave ascending high, Dash down again, and in an instant die, Give in to death, beginning to a new Till wrapt within themselves we loose their view, So in love's growth, a spark begets a flame, And that, burnt out, returns to ash again. These the degrees and ends of lovers' bliss, From small to great, then nothing is.
Authorship:
- by Anonymous / Unidentified Author
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Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]5. Ask me no more where Jove bestows  [sung text not yet checked]
Ask me no more where [Jove]1 bestows, When June is past, the fading rose; For in your beauty's orient deep These flowers, as in their causes, sleep. Ask me no more whither do stray The golden atoms of the day; For in pure love heaven did prepare Those powders to enrich your hair. Ask me no more whither doth haste The nightingale, when [May]2 is past; For in your sweet dividing throat She winters, and keeps warm her note. Ask me no more where those stars 'light, That downwards fall [in]3 dead of night; For in your eyes they sit, and there Fixèd become as in their sphere. Ask me no more if east or west The Phœnix builds her spicy nest; For unto you at last she flies, And in your fragrant bosom dies.
Authorship:
- by Thomas Carew (1595? - 1639?), "Ask me no more"
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Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- FRE French (Français) (Guy Laffaille) , "Chant", copyright © 2010, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
1 Headlam-Morley: "Love"
2 Headlam-Morley: "June"
3 Headlam-Morley: "at"
Researcher for this page: Jacques L'oiseleur des Longchamps
6. Oh, think not Phoebe
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7. Up ladies up
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8. Faith, be no longer coy
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9. Cupid's weary of the court
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10. It is her voice
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11. Where did you borrow that last sigh
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12. Why should great beauty
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13. Pleasures, beauty, youth attend ye
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14. Whiles I this standing lake
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15. To whom shall I complain
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16. Had you but heard he sing
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17. Farewell fair saint
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18. Love's a child
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19. Early in the morn
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20. Thou that excellest
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21. Perfect and endless circles are
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22. Can beauty's spring
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23. Tell me no more  [sung text checked 1 time]
Tell me no more her eyes are like Two rising suns that wonder strike, For it 'twere so, how could it be, They should be thus eclipsed by me? Tell me no more her breasts do grow, Like rising hills of melting snow, For if 'twere so, how could they lie So near the sunshine of her eye? Tell me no more the restless spheres, Compared to her voice, frights our ears, For if 'twere so, how then could death Dwell with such discord in her breath? No, say her eyes portenders are Of ruin, or some blazing star, Else I should feel from that fair fire Some heat to cherish my desire. Say that her breasts, though cold as snow, Are hard as marble when I woo, Else they would soften and relent With sighs enflamed from me sent. Say that although like to the moon, She's heavenly fair, yet changed as soon, Else she would constant once remain Either to pity or disdain. That so by one of them I might Be kept alive or murdered quite, For 'tis less cruel thus to kill Where life does but increase the ill.
Authorship:
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Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]24. God of winds
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25. I would the god of love would die
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26. Ah, cruel love  [sung text not yet checked]
Ah, Cruel Love! must I endure Thy many scorns, and find no cure? Say, are thy medicines made to be Helps to all others but to me? I'll leave thee, and to Pansies come: Comforts you'll afford me some: You can ease my heart, and do What Love could ne'er be brought unto.
Authorship:
- by Robert Herrick (1591 - 1674), "To Pansies"
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Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]27. He that will not love  [sung text checked 1 time]
He that will not love must be My scholar and learn this of me: There be in love as many fears As the summer corn have ears; Sighs and sobs, and troubles more Than the sand upon the shore; Now an ague, then a fever Both tormenting lovers ever. Woulds't thou know besides all these How hard a woman 'tis to please? How high she's prized, whose worth's but small? Little thou'lt love, or nought at all.
Authorship:
- by Robert Herrick (1591 - 1674)
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Researcher for this page: Ted Perry28. I burn, I burn. To the Dews  [sung text not yet checked]
I burn, I burn ; and beg of you To quench or cool me with your dew. I fry in fire, and so consume, Although the bile be all perfume. Alas ! the heat and death's the same, Whether by choice or common flame To be in oil of roses drowned, Or water ; where's the comfort found ? Both bring one death ; and I die here Unless you cool me with a tear : Alas ! I call ; but ah ! I see Ye cool, and comfort all but me.
Authorship:
- by Robert Herrick (1591 - 1674), "To dews", subtitle: "A song"
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Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]29. White though ye be. On the Lilies  [sung text not yet checked]
White though ye be; yet, Lillies, know, From the first ye were not so: But Ile tell ye What befell ye; Cupid and his Mother lay In a Cloud; while both did play, He with his pretty finger prest The rubie niplet of her breast; Out of which, the creame of light, Like to a Dew, Fell downe on you, And made ye white.
Authorship:
- by Robert Herrick (1591 - 1674), "How lilies came white"
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Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]30. Gather ye rosebuds  [sung text checked 1 time]
Gather ye rosebuds while ye may, Old Time is still a-flying: And [this]1 same flower that smiles today Tomorrow will be dying. [The]2 glorious lamp of heaven, the Sun, The higher he's a-getting The sooner will his race be run, And nearer he's to setting. That age is best which is the first, When youth and blood are warmer; [But being spent, the worse, and worst Times, still succeed the former. ]3 Then be not coy, but use your time; And while ye may, go marry: For having lost but once your prime, You may forever tarry.
Authorship:
- by Robert Herrick (1591 - 1674), "To the virgins, to make much of time"
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Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- SPA Spanish (Español) (Alfredo García) , "A las vírgenes, para que aprovechen el tiempo", copyright © 2004, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
1 Lawes: "that"
2 Dring: "That"
3 Lawes: "Expect not the last and worst, / Time still succeeds the former."
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
31. I'm sick of love  [sung text checked 1 time]
Subtitle: To the Sycamore
I'm sick of love: O let me lie Under your shades to sleep or die! Either is welcome, so here I have Or here my bed, or here my grave. Why do ye sigh, and sob, and keep Time with the tears that I do weep? Can ye have sense, or do ye prove What crucifixions are in love? I know ye do, and that's the why Ye weep, being sick of love as I.
Authorship:
- by Robert Herrick (1591 - 1674)
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Researcher for this page: Ted Perry32. Lovers, rejoice
Lovers rejoice, your paines shall be rewarded . . . . . . . . . .— The rest of this text is not
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Authorship:
- by Francis Beaumont (1584 - 1616), written 1612, appears in Cupid's Revenge
- by John Fletcher (1579 - 1625), written 1612, appears in Cupid's Revenge
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33. That flame is born of earthly fire
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34. Dearest, all fair
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35. Be not proud, pretty one
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36. Love, I obey
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37. Oh, draw your curtains and appear  [sung text not yet checked]
O, draw your curtains and appear Ere long, like sparks that upward fly, We can but vainly say you were, So soon you'll vanish from the eye. And in what star we both shall find -- For sure we can't divided be -- Is not to lovers' art assign'd, 'Twill puzzle wise astrology.
Authorship:
- by William D'Avenant, Sir (1606 - 1668), "Song", appears in Love and Honour
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Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]38. O Love, are all those arrows gone
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39. Ye fiends and furies
Ye fiends and furies . . . . . . . . . .— The rest of this text is not
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Authorship:
- by William D'Avenant, Sir (1606 - 1668), "Song. To a dreadful Tune", appears in The Unfortunate Lovers
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40. Hence flatt'ring hopes  [sung text checked 1 time]
Hence flatt'ring hopes, cease longing and give o'er. It is decreed That he whom you shall see no more, Must to beguile your wishes bleed. Oh, may his faults for ever silent pass, Since 'tis his doom, Than which a heavier never was, To find his marriage bed his tomb.
Authorship:
- by Anonymous / Unidentified Author
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Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]41. Stay, Phoebus, stay  [sung text checked 1 time]
Stay, Phoebus, stay. The world to which you fly so fast, Conveying day From us to them, can pay your haste With no such object, nor salute your rise With no such wonder as De Mornay's eyes. Well does this prove The error of those antique books, Which made you move About the world; her charming looks Would fix your beams and make it ever day, Did not the rolling earth snatch her away.
Authorship:
- by Edmund Waller (1608 - 1687)
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Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]42. Cloris, I wish that Envy were as just  [sung text checked 1 time]
Cloris, I wish that Envy were As just as pity doth appear Unto your state, that so I might Rob others to give you delight, But your too free though lovely charm In others' glory brings you harm, For while you willingly admit So many rivals to your wit, Unthriftily you throw away The pleasure of your beauteous sway, Which loosely scattered so on many, Securely fastens not on any, And so your beauty to discover, Brings many gazers but no lover, And your too greedy hands destroy What you would yourself enjoy. So princes by ambition thrifty grown, In chase of many kingdoms lose their own.
Authorship:
- by Anonymous / Unidentified Author
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Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]43. Doris, see the am'rous flame  [sung text checked 1 time]
Doris, see the am'rous flame, How it courts thy noble name, Beck'ning sometimes with desire To th'embraces of the fire, And then gently fans again The clear story of your pen, As, not able to withstand The strict beauty of your hand, But ambitious to adore, Rose to kiss and durst no more. Let not then the senseless flame My devoter service shame. Yield as much to my desire As thou gav'st unto the fire. Oh, let me view it though it turn Me to those ashes you would burn. So shall your hand with my heart have A willing and a friendly grave.
Authorship:
- by Anonymous / Unidentified Author
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Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]44. Those lovers only happy are  [sung text checked 1 time]
Those lovers only happy are That still despair. The restless souls that hope and fear In tempests live. Each smile or frown Like surges toss them up and down, And if they e'er Attain the port, they shipwreck there And sink their love though they escape, For beauty shape, And all those sweets which they before Did with so much delight adore, If tasted, they esteem no more And once enjoyed They are no sooner pleased than cloyed. But he that dares his heart prefers To worship her Whose eyes divine fire doth not burn But all love into wonder turn. Blest in his objects glories are, And their despair Secures that bliss from all impair.
Authorship:
- by Anonymous / Unidentified Author
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Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]45. Amarillis tear thy hair  [sung text checked 1 time]
Amarillis tear thy hair, Beat thy breast, sigh, weep, despair. Cry, cry "Ay me, is Daphnis dead?" I see a paleness on his brow And his cheeks are drowned in snow. Whither are those roses fled? "O my heart, how cold he's grown; Sure his lips are turned to stone. Thus then I offer up my blood, And bathe my body in his shroud. Since living accents cannot move, Know Amarillis died for love."
Authorship:
- by Anonymous / Unidentified Author
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Researcher for this page: John Versmoren46. Why so pale and wan, fond lover?  [sung text checked 1 time]
Why so pale and wan, fond lover? Prithee, why so pale? Will, when looking well can't move her, Looking ill prevail? Prithee, why so pale? Why so dull and mute, young sinner? Prithee, why so mute? Will, when speaking well can't win her, Saying nothing [do't]1? Prithee, why so mute? Quit, quit for shame, this will not move, This cannot take her; If of herself she will not love, Nothing can make her; [The devil take her!]2
Authorship:
- by John Suckling, Sir (1609 - 1642), no title, written 1637, Printed by John Haviland for Thomas Walkley, at the sign of the Flying Horse near York House, London, first published 1638
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Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- GER German (Deutsch) (Adolf von Marées) , "Warum so blaß?"
Confirmed with Works in prose and Verse, by Sir John Suckling, Aglaura, Act IV, Scene 2, G. Routledge, London 1910, Page 115.
1 Stöhr: "do"2 Britten: "Let who will take her!"
Research team for this page: Ted Perry , Guy Laffaille [Guest Editor] , Iain Sneddon [Guest Editor] , Johann Winkler